I spend a lot of time in airports these days. The majority of that time is invariably spent in airport bars. So much so in fact, that Sophia behind the bar knows my name when I sit down. I’m not on a first name basis with the bartenders in my own neighborhood, so I’m pretty sure this isn’t a good thing. That said it is nice to see a “friend” at the end of my day. She knows that I’m going to have (2) beers and a Jim Beam and Diet before I get on the plane. She knows that I’m going to walk next door and have a cigarette between said beers. She knows that I’m going to try to leave her my credit card to ensure that I don’t skip the check even though she knows that I would never do that. And she probably knows that I’m going to say “I need to quit smoking” when I sit back down at the bar. She’s from Algeria. She’s nice. She smiles. She doesn’t ask me questions about my life or tell me about her rotten kids – there’s no banter. I don’t have to say a single word. I like that.
Airport bars are bizarre little places. I’ve always thought it must be odd to work at a place like this. Do they have to go through security to get to work everyday? Or do they have clearance to bypass the cluster that is IAD security? If they aren’t forced to navigate security how do they get out to the concourse? If they don’t have to go through security what is to stop Hector the dishwasher (or whoever) from bringing an Uzi to work and lighting this place up for whatever inane reason that people that do such things do such things? I don’t like where my mind is going with this so I resolve to trust that each and every employee of this fine establishment is cleared daily.
I digress.
Back to the strangeness. For one thing, the lights are way too bright in here to qualify as a bar, but that is to be expected I suppose. The patrons are seemingly from all over the world, from all walks of life, all cultures and the place is packed as usual. The loud guy in the bad suit is at the end of the bar espousing his wisdom about the state of the economy and why this country is going to hell in a hand basket. Different guy this time, but his ilk is always well represented. There are the Brooks Brother’s martini chaps reading the Wall Street Journal (desperately pretending they’re not gay). There’s an older gentleman sitting alone in the back, quietly staring straight ahead at nothing. (Maybe he is actually the one with the Uzi!) I’ve seen the lady sitting next to me on past trips. She’s perusing pictures of cats on her IPad (just like the last time I saw her in here). 90% of everyone in my line of sight is doing the exact same thing – staring into the warming glow of their favorite electronic device. No one is talking. Nobody is even really acknowledging that there is anyone else in this room. There is almost zero human interaction. Do you want to know the kicker? The motto splashed across the wall here is “good food ends with good talk”. Fail. (On both accounts actually).
When did this happen? When did we all become so isolated? I’m not passing judgment – I’m no different than they are. Why should I / they invest any even miniscule amount of time in asking how a perfect stranger’s day has been? Or where they are going? Or simply say hello? Because it is the polite thing to do, that’s why. Because it will remind me that I’m a human being sharing space with other human beings. But we / I don’t do that most of the time. We each exist on our own private electronic island and facebook or tweet or text or blog our lives away. It occurs to me that this phenomenon isn’t as strange as I first thought however; and it certainly isn’t exclusive to Max and Erma’s, B76, IAD. This is the American way. “I’m going to live in my little house, on my little street, in my little neighborhood and I’m not going to look anyone in the eye and I’m going to mind my own business.” [I’m going to bury my face in the sand and pretend that everything is wonderful.] This is no way to live. It is certainly our right to do so but we need to open up a little.
I think I will try to change this reality or at least my perception of it starting right now. It’s not like I’m an asshole really. I have never been an open book by any stretch, but I’ve become more and more cynical about people as I’ve gotten older. I’ve spent a lot of my life disengaged, somehow. I don’t know if I knew that before right now. Looking at the world from the outside like I was above it all or something. (Geez, maybe I really am an asshole!) I think I’m done with that now. I don’t think it works. All it takes is a hello and a smile and that might be enough to change someone’s whole day. It’s not like I have to be friends with every knucklehead in every bar in every town. But like I said, it makes my day a tiny bit brighter when Sophia says hello and smiles every time I’m in here.
New rule – be nice.
The plane is boarding so I should go. On my way out I’ll smile and say hello to that freaking crazy IPad cat lady. Shit! Not off to a good start!! I’ll smile and say hello to that sweet little grandmother with a fondness for felines.
There.
I feel better already.
Peace.
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